


Atonement

by tatteredspider



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftermath, Gen, Judgment, what happens next
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7102378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatteredspider/pseuds/tatteredspider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders takes himself to Skyhold to present himself for judgment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure where this came from...

He stood before the gates of Skyhold, breath heavy in his lungs, body shivering with the cold. It had been a long journey getting here, made all the more difficult for the internal war he was fighting. But he would see this done, no matter what Vengeance insisted on. He had started this war, and it was no longer vengeance that he was seeking. It was justice.

There were guards posted at the gates but there were so many pilgrims going in and out of the structure that he was just one of many to them. He passed without issue, a grin splitting his lips. Hawke would have been all over that, once upon a time. Of course he would have used it to his advantage first, but still. He would have to mention it to someone. Maybe Varric, if they let him see him.

In the lower courtyard of the structure he paused again. There were tents nearby, medical tents filled to the brim and overflowing with the sick and injured. He could pause for a few minutes, couldn't he? Help out with some of the worst cases?

He presented himself to the first mage he found there, a man of middling years with a thick greying beard and robes that had seen better decades. The man seemed relieved more than anything else to have found another healer and set him to work directly. A young child, a grandmother, a soldier, case after case until several hours had passed. Darkness was falling over the stronghold and he realized that now it would be too late to present himself. He arched back, stretching out his back to relieve the kinks, looking around for a place to lay his head for the night when he spotted her.

She was finishing up with a patient, a young man with a long cut along his arm, most likely from sword training that he wasn't quite ready for. She smiled at the boy and his breath caught in his lungs. It filled the world, the brightness of that smile. She turned towards him and, if his breath had caught before, it was sucked away from him now. Chestnut hair pulled away in a thick braid down her back, escaped tendrils framing her face. Skin that once might have been like ivory but was now slightly tanned from the outdoors and flush with exertion. Flashing eyes that were the turquoise colour of the waters off the coast of Antiva surrounded by dark, thick lashes. And then she spoke, and even Vengeance was quieted, if only for a moment.

“Hey! You okay over there?”

He shook his head, cheeks pinking at being caught staring at the woman. She gripped a plain wooden staff, leaning on it slightly as though her legs were over tired, dressed in plain robes that were once white but now so stained as to be an indeterminate colour. And she was still beautiful. He coughed slightly to clear his throat, though his voice was still rough when he answered. “Ah, yes. Yes, thank you.”

“You're looking a little worn out, there. How long have you been at Skyhold?”

She was coming closer, close enough for him to see the faint scar that bisected a brow, the sparse freckles across the bridge of her nose. And she smelled of vanilla and lavender. “Um, not long. Just today.”

“And they put you right to work, huh? Well, come on. Let's get to the tavern and grab some food. I'm starved!”

She took his hand to pull him along in her wake. The skin of her right hand was smooth, marred only with the callouses that would be found on a mage's hands that used a staff regularly. Her left seemed to be covered with a knit fingerless glove of some sort, as though to cover a deformation or scars. He wondered briefly if it was something she had been unable to heal in time, but then he was being pulled into a boisterous building filled with light and the smells of food and drink and large, sweaty men. For a moment he was reminded of better times, happier times, until a massive voice boomed across the room in greeting. “Boss!”

She waved and he looked towards the recipient only to stop dead in his tracks. A Qunari! A giant of a man, grey skinned with horns that jutted out from his head at the sides like a bull's. He was smiling, waving a tankard wildly in the air, spilling alcohol across the table in his enthusiasm.

“Hi, guys! Got started without me, did ya?”

“Your Worship! Chief was just about to buy another round,”

Anders turned to the other speaker and paused before understanding hit him. No, not a smooth cheeked youth dressed up in armour but a- ....Yes, well, more power to him. The good-natured ribbing going around the table now as the Qunari sputtered his indignance was heart warming. Very much like the Hanged Man, with his friends gathered around to tell stories or just to bitch and play cards.

Strangely enough, they never introduced themselves, nor he to them. They just sat and ate and played cards- badly, in his case- and told each other fantastical tales that he was sure were completely made up. And as the table began to disperse for the night, she went to the bar and returned with a room key just for him. And a smile that lit up the night.

 

 

He presented himself to a guard in the morning. He expected anger, a beating at the very least, but instead the man simply nodded and lead him to the basement cells. An hour later and the guard was back. “Inquisitor says you're to work with the Healers during the day, cells at night til they got time to make a judgment.”

He was flabbergasted! It was unheard of! Ridiculous! He almost protested until he realized that, in a strange way, it actually made some sense. Why waste a resource, even if it was temporary? There were a number of pilgrims that came in every day with injuries or illnesses that needed to be treated and only so many healers to go around. The men and women he saw yesterday had been worked ragged and the patient numbers just seemed to get bigger as the day progressed. And here they had another healer sitting on his hands in the cells, Why not put him to work?

He nodded and followed the guard out to the lower courtyard. The bearded mage from the day before motioned him where to start and the guard took up a post nearby. Though he looked around quickly, he did not spot the woman from yesterday and soon his work load was such that he had no time to search.

It went on like this for five days. The woman never returned that he noticed, but other mages joined them off and on. The abnormally tall, bald elf dressed nearly as shabbily as he did himself who would lay a cool hand on a fevered brow, speaking softly as he helped the pain-wracked to sleep. The dark-skinned Orlesian that would only go as far as the tent's flaps before sniffing in disdain and walking away. Just as well. Maker forefend that she might get blood on her pristine robes. And the northern mage with his perfect hair and perfect attire, who dragged book after book with him to try out this curative spell or that elixir. His enthusiasm was actually a little daunting.

On the sixth day, as he was finishing off bandaging a young soldiers arm and admonishing him not to practice with live blades for a while, his guard leaned in and took his elbow. “It's time.”

 

 

Strangely enough, what he remembered most about that walk down the length of the Great Hall was not the simple splendour of its decor, or the sheer number of finely dressed people that filled its spaces. It was the gasp of recognition that came from the the ornate fireplace that heated the room. When he looked he found his friend the dwarf, watching with saddened eyes. He tried to give Varric a reassuring grin, but it was too late, he'd been led too far away from his friend to see.

The dais he was lead to was empty for the moment, save for an ancient throne, it's seat and back recently reupholstered in plush red velvet. Dark, wrought iron spikes sprouted from the back to pierce the heavens and he cringed.

“Kind of ugly, don't you think?” a voice whispered in his ear. He jerked his head in surprise to find the woman standing so close. She grinned mischievously and took a step back, folding her arms over her chest. She stood out from those around her with her simple attire, though today she had opted for a pair of dark leather breeches and a simple linen tunic that seemed to match the odd colouring of her eyes, her thick hair left to flow loose down her back. And for all that, she glowed while all the opulence around her seemed to vanish into the background. So,” she continued. “How come you're up here for judging, then?”

He looked to his guard, who just nodded to him and took a step back. Now that was odd, but he wasn't about to complain. “I did something horrendous and I need to be judged.”

“Yeah? What?”

Damn it! Why couldn't she just wait until the Inquisitor came and he could explain it only once? But she didn't seem to be going anywhere, and in fact was now tapping her little slippered foot against the stone beneath her, waiting. He sighed heavily, shoulders drooping as he gave in. “I blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall.”

He expected surprise, indignation. Fear. Instead he got a chuckle. “How'd that work out for ya?”

He snorted. “Not what I was hoping for.”

She sighed and lowered her arms, turning to face the throne. “Yeah. Life rarely is.”

“Your Worship, if you could take a seat we can get started,” the pretty little Antivan ambassador said and Anders looked around for the Inquisitor. No noble stepped forward, no one moved closer to them. And then he realized that the woman from the Healer's tent, with the beautiful eyes and the smile that lit the room, had seated herself in the Inquisitor's throne.

The ambassador stepped forward, consulting her clipboard. “Lady Inquisitor, Mae Trevelyan, I bring before you the mage, Anders, leader of the Kirkwall Mage Underground and terrorist responsible for the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry and murder of Grand Cleric Elthina as well as thirty-seven other men, women and children. He has brought himself over for judgment in this case after volunteering his services in the Healer's tents in the lower courtyard.”

The nobles were in an uproar, drowning out the words spoken by the Inquisitor for a moment. Well, at least until she stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly enough to catch the attention of everything on the mountain. The silence that fell afterwards was even more deafening. She smiled widely into the pregnancy of that silence.

“So the infamous Anders, huh? Nice to officially meet you.”

Anders did not look at her. Mae Trevelyan. Leader of the Inquisition. Wow, she really fooled him, didn't she?

She glanced down at her hands and began picking at her fingers nails with a small blade she pulled from... well, he wasn't sure where. “So,” she continued, “what have you been up to since the whole... kablooey thing?”

_Kablooey_? Well, she certainly has a way of putting things, doesn't she? “Um, travelling for the most part, your... your Worship.”

She looked up, pointing the blade toward him. “And what have you been doing in your travels?”

Anders thought back to his years on the run. “Healing mainly,” he replied. “Small farms and villages whose people have been caught in the cross-fire. When I learned about the Inquisition I decided that it was time to end it, to turn myself in. Face justice.”

She tossed the blade into the air where it seemed to vanish in a small puff of smoke. Neat trick.”And what, pray tell, do you think would be justice, huh? Thirty-eight people, one of which a Grand Cleric, is a lot to face justice for. Not to mention all the people that have been hurt or killed since. Oh, not the mages or templars! No, they brought their deaths on themselves, but the little guys. The people that were just going about their lives until a war dropped down in their laps.”

Anders straightened and looked the beautiful woman in the eye. He would not grovel for this, true justice demanded it. Vengeance, on the other hand, was scrabbling for control to get him out of this mess. “I deserve execution, your Majesty.”

The tumult was piercing as gasped and called for his head throughout the Hall. Only the Inquisitor remained silent, watching Anders with an interested eye. She gave the masses a few moments to exhaust themselves before whistling through her fingers once again. “Really?” she demanded of the room at large. “Keep it down, would you? The man wants justice and I am determined to give it to him.” She turned back to face him before continuing. “Though maybe not the justice he thinks he deserves.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, lips moving in a silent prayer before she passed her judgment.

“Anders, formerly of the Anderfels, formerly of Kinloch Hold and Vigil's Keep, formerly of Kirkwall, I have made my decision as to your fate regarding the explosion of the Kirkwall Chantry. I have watched you the last week as you worked tirelessly to heal the pilgrims that pass our gates every day. You are a Healer of unsurpassed power, as well as a Grey Warden of some renown. I am loathe to lose a resource of your calibre. You will be placed under house arrest here at Skyhold, working with the Healers as they see fit. You will be assigned Templar guards at all times until such time as I judge that you have atoned for your actions.

Many here will not agree with my decision but it is my belief that, had the Chantry not been as wholly oppressive as it is towards mages, and allowed the atrocities that it does, Kirkwall never would have had to happen. The riot and death of Seeker Lambert at the White Spire would never have had to happen. No, mages, as much as anyone else, need to be able to prove that they are able to live amongst the rest of the world and we're going to start here, today, with Anders.”

There was a huge outcry, mostly from the nobles, but Anders barely heard them. Once again, a powerful figure in his life was going to let him go, to atone for what he had done. She stood and walked towards him, leaning in to whisper against his cheek. “If you fuck up, Anders, I will plunge the blade into your heart myself, understood?”

He shivered, almost in anticipation. Oh he understood, all right. He understood.

 


End file.
